


直せられなくて壊された人

by LinkedSoul



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Murder, Short One Shot, What-If, mr Aishi's pov, please save mr Aishi's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkedSoul/pseuds/LinkedSoul
Summary: Mr. Aishi loves his daughter, as any father should. But it's too much for Ryoba's liking.(or a "what if Ryoba considered her husband loved their daughter more than her?" scenario)





	直せられなくて壊された人

**Author's Note:**

> For @annoyedlord on tumblr! <3  
> I'm not into Yansim but he is.

There is this thing called love, twisted and twisted over into his brain, into his heart, distorted and hammered here like a tree which should have never grown. It is a love he doesn’t know is genuine or not - but he doesn’t ask himself that. He cannot. Has forgotten that questioning himself was a thing, for each time he has a single doubt, there is Ryoba to smile and tell him the right way. 

Ryoba is never wrong. He might have thought she was, at a time; but now she’s not, she can never be. She wants, and she gets, and it has always been that way, for as long as he can remember, because what she does not get does not exist in this world anymore.

What she does not want also does not exist in this world anymore. It disappears. At the beginning, he did not want Ryoba to want him - but then he learnt this lesson, this one important lesson, and decided it was better to be wanted than dead.

Better to be Ryoba’s than dead. 

Ryoba isn’t a monster, he has also learnt with time. She does not accept the word ‘no’, or with much difficulties; but if he is pliant and soft between her hands, she will cherish him like the most precious of treasures. She is lovely, most of the time, cheerful and happy, she kisses his cheek before he’s off to work, and she has turned herself into a perfect little housewife who cooks the most delicious meals, even when he insists they can share chores. 

It is love, he tells himself. A kind of love. If it wasn’t-- no, he doesn’t want to think about it, he can’t think about it. 

It is also love, what he feels towards Ayano. Ayano is his own little treasure. He has seen her grow, has seen her first steps, has seen her first smiles. Ayano, his little sun. His pride and joy. Ayano, so much like her mother also, too much maybe, to the point he fears she might become another Ryoba, and get the coldest of smiles when she is angry, lose that innocence, come home covered in blood. 

Everything will be fine, he has told himself over the years, because his little angel is strong and still loves him; but now she has grown up, and he cannot keep on telling himself he is not going to lose her.

This terrifies him. She is fading away from him, his little girl, replaced by someone he knows less and less, and he wouldn’t know what to do if one day he found himself watching a complete stranger in his house, someone who would be Ayano and not quite at the same time, someone he couldn’t love anymore, who did not love him. There would be no sun anymore, no reason to get up if not for the fear of disobeying Ryoba. He would be all alone, abandoned and completely lost, and he does not want to think about that.

Ayano, for now, remains his. She still smiles at him with the same warmth, hugs him ever so tightly, cooks for him when her mother isn’t there, and puts little presents on his bedside table if she sees he looks too sad for her liking. 

Yes, Ayano is his, infinitely more so than she is her mother’s. 

And, it seems, since her birth, he is Ayano’s much more than he is Ryoba’s.

 

* * *

The world shatters on a Monday night. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks Ryoba that night, because she is on the edge, angry, and he knows she wants him to notice.

“Nothing, darling,” she snaps back. Her usual cheerfulness is gone. He is starting to get scared.

“Please, tell me. Is this something I’ve done? Is it-”

Suddenly, Ryoba gets up. Her chair clatters behind her, and she sends the kitchen table flying to the side. He falls, scrambles up to his feet. Ayano has gone to sleep about an hour ago - he hopes she won’t wake up. 

“YOU LOVE HER MORE THAN ME!”

He stops thinking about Ayano. Ryoba stands tall, taller than him, eyes burning with a rage which brings him back twenty years ago when he would turn around to see her watching him with his friends, and then his friends started disappearing one by one, and he ended all alone. 

“It’s always Ayano, Ayano, Ayano! You’re mine! You’re mine, do you hear me?! You have no right to love another woman more than me! I forbid you!”

She is angry, so angry, and he’s terrified. No, this isn’t Ryoba. His Ryoba is lovely, happy, adoring. This-- this is the monster who killed his friends and was dragged so justice, this is the monster who captured him all those years ago, this is the monster who haunts his nightmares and his darkest fears. It can’t be Ryoba. It cannot. It has to be two different people, at least so he can keep on loving Ryoba, and survive.

“It’s not what you think.” He is shaking, his hands trembling uncontrollably. “I love you! I love you more than anyone. Ayano is my daughter-- our daughter! It’s our daughter, it’s normal I love her too!”

“NO!”

Her roar makes him flinch back, makes him want to disappear. He wants his lovely wife back, he wants Ryoba back, the one who hugs him from behind with delight - not the monster who destroyed him from the inside so much he has forgotten who he used to be.

“You can’t love her! I SAID YOU CAN’T, SO YOU WON’T!”

He breaks down. Cries. Everything but the monster screaming at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

It’s a mantra, a chant - he whispers those words over and over again, crying, looking at his feet, arms wrapped around his own body.

“Mom?”

There is something else which breaks in him, this time - something terrible which lets dread slip into his heart and paralyze him entirely.

He raises his head as Ryoba turns around to face her daughter.

“You,” she says.

Ayano’s eyes go from him to her mother, in an unreadable expression. “Dad?”

“You,” Ryoba declares, “should not exist.”

Ayano stills. He sees her cracking down from the inside, would want to run up to her and reassure her, comfort her his precious daughter - but he can’t move. 

“You’re the reason why he doesn’t love me anymore. I have to kill you. I have to kill you so he’ll love me again.”

Ryoba’s voice is so blank and neutral, icing him to the core, and suddenly he can read what’s on Ayano’s face.

It’s betrayal.

Towards both him and Ryoba. 

Ryoba and her both dive for knives at the same time. There are so many in this kitchen. Too many, maybe. And he, helpless and frozen, falls down when the first knife clash resonates, terrible and loud, marking the end of everything he knew. 

He watches.

He shouldn’t, but he watches.

He watches his wife, his lovely and adorable wife, turned into a monster, fight with his daughter now enraged, his sun, his treasure, his happiness. 

This is wrong, he thinks, so very wrong; but he cannot move. 

Can only watch.

Ultimately, it’s Ayano who jabs her knife into her mother’s throat, once, then when the two of them crash on the ground, over and over and over until Ryoba definitely stops moving. 

Someone has just died, he realizes.

The horror of it all makes him throw up, crying and heaving, fists clenched so tightly it is going to leave nail marks on his palms. Someone died. Someone was just killed under his eyes. What is he supposed to do, now? What must he do? What do you do, when someone was killed under your very eyes - what do you do of the corpse? 

How awful.

He can’t touch it, can’t approach it - it’s  _ Ryoba _ , after all, his wife, who taught him so well never to call the police, no matter what he found in their basement.

_ Ryoba is dead. _

His wife is dead.

The monster is dead. 

It is so very wrong, so awful, so terrible, he doesn’t know what to think. What to say. He just wishes it were a nightmare, and it would all go away.

But it doesn’t.

He loved Ryoba, didn’t he? But she also hurt him, didn’t she? It’s the monster who died, and at the same time Ryoba died, and he does not know why he cannot bring himself to be torn apart, but why he cannot bring himself to feel  _ free _ either. 

He should. But he can’t.

And the reason is that this thing called love, twisted and twisted over into his brain, into his heart, distorted and hammered here like a tree which should have never grown, is now dead - and within him, there’s nothing at all anymore. So he wants it back. That love. And at the same time, it was so horrible, he wishes it had never existed.

_ Ryoba is dead. _

_ Has been killed. _

By his daughter.

He finally brings himself to raise his head again, and sees Ayano standing over the corpse of her mother, bloodied and crying, looking at the body with her knife still in hand. 

Ayano.

His precious daughter, his sunshine, his treasure, has  _ killed _ his wife. 

She has killed someone. She has a knife. There is blood on her hands. Her hair is unusually undone - and she looks so much like Ryoba right now, so intricately alike, that he takes the truth right in the face and realizes  _ she is the monster _ , now.

She has become what he had always feared.

The spiral starts again.

No, no, no, no it can’t start again, it  _ can’t _ , he  _ can’t _ let it start all over again, he has to stop it, he has so  _ save her _ . 

“A-Ayano,” he stutters.

He pulls himself together, pulls himself on his feet, takes a few steps in her direction, reaches out--

Nearly dies from a knife being swung in front of it.

He freezes once again.

_ He has nearly died. _

Hadn’t he taken that step back, he would have died.

_ By Ayano’s hand _ .

“It’s your fault!”

Her voice breaks his last pieces of sanity.

“It’s your fault she didn’t love me anymore! It’s your fault she tried to kill me! It’s your fault she rejected me! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

And he runs.

He runs for his life, runs away from the monster his daughter has become, runs away from the person he has loved the most and wanted so much to protect. 

She chases after him. 

But what is left to kill? An empty shell? The shadow of a man who used to be her beloved father? 

He has lost everything: his wife, his daughter, his life, his sanity, himself.

He is broken. So utterly broken.

Shattered.

And there is no way to fix himself anymore. No twisted love to grow in order to survive and to keep himself in one piece. No possibility to put glue on the parts of himself that have already been destroyed the day Ryoba kidnapped him.

There is nothing at all.

He is nothing at all.

He can only try to run, and only the gods will tell if his legs will carry him away.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The scenario came from a discussion in the Neutral Yansim discord server on "what if Ryoba decided to get rid of Ayano because she felt Mr. Aishi loved their daughter more than her?"  
> The title means: "a broken person who cannot be repaired" and if you ask me why I wrote it in Japanese, it's just that it looked and sounded better to me that way.  
> (Not being fluent in Japanese, it might be wrong, but I really don't think so)


End file.
